we have a time of it—eh, Nell?" But mother shakes her head a little sadly.
"Poor papa!" she says; "he is very sorry to go away and leave us all." I stare at mother. Can she be joking? Can she mean (oh, the idea is too ridiculous!) that he likes us, that he is sorry to go away from us? I look at Basan. His mouth and eyes are as round as mine. We have the two longest tongues in the family, but the notion has sobered him as well as me. Papa sorry to leave us! The idea is so amazing that it literally strikes us dumb. "And how are Alice and Milly and the babies?" asks mother; and for the rest of the drive our talk is nothing but question and answer.
At the house door are drawn up the young ones, whose shouts of welcome attest without any need of inquiry, that at the present moment papa does not pervade these parts: and as I embrace them all round, I find it in my heart to wish there were even more of them, that Jack stood near for me to put my arm round his neck, that pretty Dolly was "finished" and sent home from school. They escort me to my room in a body,and make themselves very happy and busy until nurse appears to welcome me, and sweep them all away.
"Eh! but your stay has done you but little good, Miss Nell!" she says, as she stands before me. "Maybe you've been fretting after your lover, honey?"
"No, no," I answer, pressing my lips to her brown wrinkled cheek. "I have been gay, nurse, amusing myself."
"And if that's amusing yerself, my dearie, you had better have stayed at home," she says as she goes away.
I have removed my dusty travelling dress, and am drinking tea and eating chicken, when the trot of horses' hoofs comes up the avenue, and in another moment George and my father appear on horseback. Already! I had hoped for a little grace—just a little time to draw breath and gather up my strength. He evidently
